Harry Potter and the Betrayal of the Unknown
by Vespers
Summary: Harry's fifth year...fourth chapter up...Hogwarts is there, but it's not the same--"they're in a different 'place'" (how i EXPLAIN THIS JKR HINT)~shocking~O_o please r/r
1. Birthday Presents

A/N: EVERYTHING BUT THE "PLOT" BELONGS TO J.K. ROWLING.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter ONE: Birthday Presents  
  
"Boy! You in there?" barked Vernon Dursley, tapping a daydreaming Harry Potter sharply on the head. He stuffed his purple  
face into Harry's vision of the sunny yard outside and glared at him, reminding the black-haired boy largely of a rhinoceros.  
  
"What?" replied Harry, frowning as he broke his gaze from the window.  
  
"Your aunt just asked you to pull weeds. Do it! Now! And I don't want any argument!"  
  
Harry slowly got up from his seat, deliberately taking a long time to push in his chair. Dudley was grinning at him  
malevolently and as Harry walked by, the prodigiously fat boy tried to whack him across the shins with his Smeltings stick.  
Harry, however, was too fast for him and skirted the intended blow easily. Dudley got up and began to menacingly lumber  
toward the tall, skinny boy and brandished his stick under Harry's nose. Before anything else could happen, however, Uncle  
Vernon interceded.  
  
"Now, now, Dudders, we don't want to offend him, do we?" his face had gone slightly white and he looked edgy.  
Harry relaxed. Dudley, however, wouldn't give up so easily, and began to whine loudly.  
  
  
"But Dad!" he cried, his huge pasty face beginning to show the birth of a temper tantrum, "Just because of his stupid godfather  
you're not going to let me give him a – "  
  
Harry could feel a rage of his own starting at the mention of his godfather being horribly renamed, and he was about to holler at Dudley for it but . . . .  
  
"Dudley!" said Uncle Vernon a little too loudly, "Why don't you go watch your TV show? I think it should be on by  
now. And maybe later today we can go get you a new computer! How does that sound?"  
  
Dudley glared at his father, obviously still not pleased. "I hope you give me an extra-special birthday this year, Dad."  
  
Uncle Vernon looked intensely relieved. "Of course, Dudders, now why don't you go back into the kitchen and tell  
your mother that I'll be right there."  
  
As soon as Dudley was gone, Uncle Vernon rounded on Harry, his face getting redder every moment. "What do you  
think you're playing at, boy? One more little trick like that and you're gone! I will not tolerate that in my house, do you hear  
me?"  
  
"I didn't even start it!" Harry yelled back, his own face starting to get hot. "Dudley – "  
  
"Don't talk to me like that! You know how much it costs Petunia and I to keep you. So be grateful, you little brat! You and your kind are all alike. Filthy scum that aren't right in the mind. Your parents were the worst of the lot."  
  
Harry couldn't help himself. "My parents were not filthy scum! My mum died trying to protect me, and you call that  
cowardice? My godfather would risk his life for my sake and I don't consider him crazy, either."  
  
Uncle Vernon seemed to snap out of his enraged rampage at the mention of the convicted murderer. He must have  
swallowed his pride when he replied, going pale again, "Quite right, quite right. Er . . . . I must get back to the kitchen. But," he  
said, his mood swinging for the third time, "I still want you to pull those weeds. Get to it!"   
  
Harry grudgingly obeyed. As he dragged himself out the door then over to the garden and began to get his hands filthy, he thought about his godfather for the fiftieth time this summer. What was he doing right now? Where was he? Was he getting enough to eat? The last time Harry had seen Sirius was the end of the school year after his fourth encounter with Voldemort.   
Speaking of the Dark Lord, was he rising to power? That thought had been bothering Harry the most. One of Harry's teachers, Professor Trelawny of divination, had predicted the new beginning of Voldemort's wrath two years ago. The forecast had almost fully come true, except for the last part, about Voldemort becoming more powerful than ever before.  
  
Harry knew he was safe at the Dursley's house, but he was nonetheless worried. Not about himself, but about his  
protectors. The Weasleys, Sirius, and even Hogwarts were all in danger. What if one of them was hurt? It would be all his  
fault, just like Cedric's death had been. Cedric. It pained him to think that the good-looking boy could still be alive and  
enjoying his summer holiday. But he shouldn't think about it like that. Cedric's parents had forgiven Harry for something that he  
couldn't help. And yet he still felt guilty. If only . . . . .  
  
As Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead, he glimpsed Dudley at the window watching him and eating an ice cream  
cone. Harry ignored him and went back to work. Soon enough, though, he could hear the door opening and Dudley's grunts  
as he worked to fit his bulk through the frame. When he had managed this difficult task, he walked over to where Harry was  
throwing a mound of plants into the trash can. Harry could actually feel the sun being blocked out as Dudley stood in the way  
of the heat.   
  
"What do you want?" Harry asked, not looking up from what he was doing.  
  
"Just watching," the porky boy said as he licked his ice cream loudly enough for Harry hear how delicious it must be.  
Harry did not respond to the taunt, but pulled out weeds more vigorously.   
  
It would only be a few more weeks until he went to Hogwarts, he kept telling himself. His birthday would go by  
unnoticed, as usual, then there would be a month until September first. He would get to leave Dudley and his aunt and uncle  
and Privet Drive for a whole year. If he just thought of that, he would be fine. Until then, he must live on letters from his friends  
and the company of Hedwig.  
  
Dudley soon got bored with Harry and squeezed himself back inside. Harry, in the mean time, finished with the  
rosebushes, lilacs, and finally the daffodil beds. He went back inside, his spine aching, to meet a miffed Aunt Petunia. He was  
about to walk past her to go upstairs to take a shower when she stopped him.  
  
"Look!" she screeched, "Just look!"  
  
"What am I doing? I just finished weeding like you asked," said Harry, annoyed that he couldn't even clean himself up  
without being stopped.   
  
"You're getting mud all over my spotless floor!" she moaned. "Get the mop right now and fix it."  
  
Harry didn't even look at her, but stomped right past and up the stairs. He took a long, cold shower and went into his  
room. The pounding at the door came much later than he had expected, probably because he was out buying Dudley's  
computer, but Uncle Vernon did arrive, and even waited for Harry's answer before barging in.  
  
His face was an eggplant color, as though he had been holding his breath and trying to keep his temper in check.  
He spoke in a low, slightly quivering tone to Harry. "I think Aunt Petunia asked you to clean up downstairs, boy. Now I want  
an explanation, and I want a good one. Then I want you to go scrub the floor cleaner then it has ever been, or you'll be out on  
the street. Do you understand me?"  
  
Harry nodded dully, not at all marred by Uncle Vernon's threat. But he did explain himself. "I was pulling weeds in the garden, like Aunt Petunia had asked me to, and then when I was done, I came inside and went to take a shower. That's all."  
  
Uncle Vernon gave Harry what he must have thought looked like a piercing glare, then turned on his heel without  
another word. Harry slowly rose from his bed, reluctant to start the floor downstairs. As he got to the door, he gazed sadly  
at Hedwig's empty cage. It would be nice to have some company right now, but nothing could be done as she was out  
delivering a letter to Sirius. It was depressing to not have anybody in the whole house that cared for him.   
  
Harry made his way downstairs and got out the mop. By the time he was finished it was seven o' clock and the  
Dursleys were watching a TV show in the living room. He could hear them laughing: Aunt Petunia's horse-like whinny, Uncle  
Vernon's loud guffaws, and Dudley's piggish snorts. What a bunch they were; the most perfect examples of Muggles.   
  
Harry trudged back upstairs and went into his room. Posted up against the wall was a homemade calendar that showed the days until his return to Hogwarts. He took a red pen and crossed out yet another one of the long 24 hour periods.  
Tomorrow was his birthday. Harry hoped that he would get a card from Ron, but wondered if the freckled boy would even  
remember.  
  
He got in bed, having nothing better to do. Harry would just have to wait until the Dursleys were asleep until he got out his homework. He might snooze a little, because his day had been so hard. Just a little . . . . .  
  
  
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Harry was awakened by a loud tapping noise on his window. Swooping impatiently outside was his snowy owl Hedwig. Harry  
jumped excitedly out of bed, and only when he threw up the glass did he notice that she was carrying a package.   
  
Hedwig soared silently inside and landed on Harry's bed, waiting with a regal attitude for him to untie the parcel from  
her leg. After she was free from her burden, she nipped his finger affectionately and then flew to her open cage. Harry took the  
box she had brought him with slightly trembling hands and began to unwrap the brown paper. He revealed a card from  
Hermione and a book called QUIDDITCH IN BULGARIA. He quickly flipped through the book, which looked  
quite interesting, and then eagerly opened the card.  
  
  
  
Dear Harry,   
  
I don't know if I told you or not, but I went to Bulgaria this summer to visit Victor. He has quite a lovely   
home and his family is charming. I also did some research on the background of magic in Bulgaria, and had a very  
fruitful outcome. If you want to know more, just send Hedwig.   
  
The main purpose of this note is to wish you a very happy birthday, especially because I know how terrible the  
Muggles are to you. Don't worry. Before you know it, you'll be back at Hogwarts.  
  
I also wondered if you'd realized that the Gryffindor team is now without a captain. Have you considered it?  
I think you'd make a great leader!   
  
  
Your Friend,  
  
Hermione  
  
  
  
Harry had just finished reading the letter when two new owls came through the open window. One was an elegant  
tawny, obviously from Hogwarts. The other was a tiny ball of fluff that zoomed around Harry's head with about five times  
more energy than was normal for an owl. Harry recognized it as Pigwidgeon, Ron's pet. He caught Pig in his hand and set the  
tiny creature on his bed, where it remained hooting excitedly. The other owl, who had perched himself importantly on Harry's  
set of drawers, held his head high and let out a soft but important-sounding call for attention. Harry went from trying to keep  
Pig silent to the great tawny and unwrapped its leg. The latter immediately left in a flurry of wide-spread wings out into the  
moonlit night.  
  
Pig was still squalling to be noticed, so instead of opening the package right away, Harry tiptoed back over to him,  
retrieving a tiny cube of a present. He didn't mind that Ron's gift was small; it was the thought that counted. Harry ripped off  
the outer layer to find a minuscule folded piece of parchment and a rock. He stared at the stone blankly, wondering if Ron had  
played a joke on him, but then thought to look at the messy scrawl that was untidily written on the paper.  
  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Don't think I cheated you out of a birthday present. Dad enchanted the rock to give off a strong protection  
charm to its owner. It'll work really well if Crabbe or Goyle tries to get in our way this year. It's also had a Heating  
Charm put on it, so if you get really cold in the dungeons, you just tap it with your wand to activate it. I don't  
know why anybody's never thought of it before.   
  
Percy thought you should be kept informed on what's happening in the Wizarding World. Ever since he got  
appointed the Head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation because of what happened to Crouch,  
he's been strutting around like he owns the world (more than usual, I mean). Anyway, Dad's running for the  
Minister of Magic, and Dumbledore's on his side because Fudge didn't, well, want to cooperate at the end of last  
term. Apparently Fudge thinks the whole thing about You-Know-Who coming back is rubbish. Too scared to face the  
facts, I guess. So Dad will try to replace him, even though Lucius Malfoy'll do anything to keep that from  
happening. But we'll see.  
  
Anyhow, I hope you have a great birthday and forget the Muggles for a while. Maybe you can come and stay  
with us for the rest of holiday. We could go get our school things together and practice some Quidditch on your  
Firebolt. You could finally try out the Wronski Feint!   
  
Happy Birthday,  
  
Ron  
  
P.S. Have you heard from Hermione? I haven't talked to her all summer!  
P.P.S. Chudley Cannons rule!   
  
  
Harry smiled at the last sentiment of Ron's about the Chudley Cannons, but immediately after wondered why Hermione would not have sent the boy a letter. He could only remember the two being in a couple of fights before. That had been worked out a long time ago, however, so this problem was definitely not one that Harry knew about. He set down the letter, though, and promising to come back to the responses of his friends later, moved on to his last birthday present.  
  
He took the heavy parcel in his hands and unwrapped it, uncovering two envelopes and a bag of what looked like  
Hagrid's rockcakes. The first letter he opened contained his new books needed for school. The second, though, was short but  
sincere. It read:  
  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Hope you have a great birthday and don't forget that I've got a new suprize for you at Hogwarts when you come back.   
  
Tell me if that Dursley Careacter tries anything funnee,  
  
Hagrid   
  
  
  
Harry smiled almost ruefully at the mention of Hagrid's "surprise" for him. It was probably something like having  
dragons at the gates of Hogwarts. Harry set down the greeting and picked up Pig from his bed, setting the fluffy creature beside Hedwig on her perch. The snowy owl turned her head and scooted away from the still-hooting animal, a look of disgust in her features. Harry, however, was already searching under the loose floorboard that he hid his school things under, and didn't notice.   
  
After fishing around for a while he retrieved a quill, ink, and some parchment. He sat down at his desk, trying not to make a noise, and began to scratch away his responses by the light of the moon coming from the window. Harry wrote to all three of his friends, telling Hermione to send some history of Bulgaria, to Hagrid that he was looking forward to coming back (not mentioning the "surprise"), and finally to Ron. He began to scribble down the letter a little faster to his best friend, excited  
that he would soon be back at he Burrow.  
  
  
  
Dear Ron,   
  
Thanks for the rock. I can't wait to show it off to Malfoy and not have to get hit back! So do you  
think we should try it right away or save it until we need it and surprise him?  
  
That's really wonderful about your dad. For once Percy was right; I was happy to hear what's  
going on outside the Muggle world. You don't know how lonely it is only being able to talk to the  
Dursleys!   
  
I can't wait until I can get over to your house. I'll ask the Muggles about it tomorrow morning and  
it's not like they can say no.   
  
And last but not least yes, I've talked to Hermione. In fact, she just sent me a birthday card that  
said she was in Bulgaria visiting Krum. As always, she's learning loads and wants to share the information.   
  
All for Now and See You Soon,  
  
Harry  
  
  
  
Harry finished signing his name and folded up the pieces of parchment for Hedwig to take in the morning when she was rested. He got into bed after propping his birthday cards on his chest of drawers and waited. He didn't know what he was anticipating, but something was missing and he couldn't describe his feeling of uneasiness. He went through his friends......  
Hagrid, Hermione, and Ron had all sent him something; who else was he expecting?   
  
Harry sat bolt upright in bed. It was Sirius. If his godfather hadn't written to him it could mean one of three things:  
one, that he was in trouble, two that he had forgotten it was Harry's birthday, or three that he was unable to communicate at  
this time. Harry decided to reason with himself and not jump to conclusions. He mentally crossed out the second possibility.  
Sirius wouldn't forget a day that was even slightly important to Harry. And the first idea was wrong too. Ron would have  
mentioned something about Sirius' capture if it had happened. Harry sighed and fell back on his pillow. He just needed to relax.  
He would send Sirius an inquiry tomorrow and if there was still no reply, then he would  
have a reason to worry.  
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A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED IT. SORRY ABOUT THE GRAMMATICAL ERRORS. PLEASE BE GENTLE WHEN YOU REVIEW (FOR THAT MATTER, PLEASE REVIEW). IT'S MY FIRST FANFIC. THANKS! 


	2. To the Burrow

A/N: ALL OF THIS BUT THE "PLOT" BELONGS TO J.K. ROWLING.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Chapter TWO: To the Burrow  
  
Harry sent Hedwig off late the next morning when he awoke, sorry to see her go because of her   
short stay. He watched sadly at the progress Sirius' letter made into the sky . . . . it got smaller  
and smaller as his owl flew into the distance. He would only send one letter now; Hermione's  
would have to wait, and Pig would depart later, after Harry had asked Uncle   
Vernon about going to the Burrow.   
  
When he went down to the breakfast table he was not surprised to be ignored by everyone.   
Aunt Petunia served him his one banana and three grapes with a snivel, still upset about last  
night. Dudley was entranced with the television and Uncle Vernon had his face hidden in the   
depths of the morning newspaper. Harry decided to eat first rather than to ask his question, as  
he was sure he wouldn't get much of an answer. He picked up a grape and popped it into his  
mouth, then watched Dudley out of pure boredom. The piggy boy had a monumental heap of fruit  
on his plate and was stuffing it into his mouth like he had never eaten before. Harry gagged  
slightly as he observed a banana and a half being turned to mash in Dudley's mouth.  
  
Two grapes and a banana later, Harry cleared his throat. "Er . . . . Uncle Vernon?"  
  
The newspaper gave a twitch and a grunt issued from its recesses to let Harry know that  
the man was listening.  
  
"Er . . . . I wanted to know if I could stay the rest of the summer at my friend Ron  
Weasley's house. That way you wouldn't have to take me to get my things for school."  
  
Uncle Vernon's paper came down and his red face appeared, his mustache quivering  
with unpleasant twitches. "Do you think that I will actually allow you to be picked up by those maniacs,"  
– Dudley was looking up evilly now – "the way you were last year? If they try to come into this  
house one more time . . . No, absolutely not!"  
  
Harry saw this was going to be a little more difficult than he had thought. He tried his  
best defense. "All right," he said, "I'll just be up writing to my godfather to tell him about your  
decision . . . You know, see what he thinks of it and all . . . . "  
  
"You'll do nothing of the sort!" roared Uncle Vernon as he sprang from his chair and  
blocked the doorway. But then he swallowed and lowered his voice a little, wincing from the  
sacrifice he was about to make. "I suppose I could drive you to their house. But I'll need  
directions for normal people to follow. Not some kooky way that doesn't exist, check that? Now,   
you go write to your little friend and tell him that I'll take care of the transportation.  
You'll be there Thursday afternoon and the time will depend upon how long it takes to get to  
the house. Now scoot!"   
  
Harry sprinted upstairs, thinking that when Fred and George got hold that Uncle Vernon  
was coming for a "visit", they'd feel like their birthday had come early. He grabbed his letter  
to Ron, ready to write a P.S. when he heard loud wails issuing from the kitchen. He opened his  
bedroom door and stuck his head out, trying to catch a snippet of what was going on. Harry  
strained his ears hard, as the kitchen door was closed, and finally grasped some muffled speech.  
  
"Muuum! Don't make me go to that loony bin! They'll give me antlers or something! DO YOU  
HEAR ME? THEY'LL GIVE ME ANTLERS! DO YOU WANT YOUR SON TO LOOK LIKE A   
REINDEER FOR THE REST OF HIS LIFE? ANTLERS, I TELL YOU!"  
  
Harry began to snicker uncontrollably. He silently shut his door and went over to his  
desk, almost bent double with laughter. Now Dudley was coming? And Aunt Petunia wouldn't let  
her "Ickle Duddy Poo" go anywhere without her except to school! The Weasleys would have a field  
day!   
  
Harry finished his letter to Ron with a flourish and tied it to Pig's minute leg,  
carrying the excited bird to the window. He gave the owl a little nudge to set him flying, then  
let himself collapse on his bed, daydreaming about what would happen to the Dursleys when they  
showed their faces at the Burrow. Harry would give them an impression to last over the winter,  
then happily spend the rest of his holiday on his broomstick with his friends.   
  
His mind wandered and he thought about other things . . . Dobby and Winky the house-  
elves,Dumbledore, Sirius, and . . . . . Cho. How would she treat him after Cedric's death? Would   
she still be as kind, and smart, and pretty, and extraordinarily good at Quidditch, and thoughtful,  
and sensitive, and – Harry stopped himself. That was all well and good, but what if she really did   
think that he had purposely not protected Cedric? What if she never talked to him again? What  
if she blamed him for what had happened? What if . . . . . . ?  
  
Harry rolled over onto his stomach and tried to blot out the night the Death Eaters had  
almost killed him, the night that he had seen his parents as wisps of smoke, the night Cedric  
had died. He attempted to turn Voldemort's ugly, snake-like face into thin air, but haunting  
visions of the wizard forming back into his full body kept returning to Harry's mind's eye.  
His scar had burnt a few times over the summer, but not enough to make it actually hurt. He  
thought about how Voldemort was getting stronger probably at this very moment. How soon would  
it take for the Muggle killings to start? How much time would elapse before the Malfoy family  
and many others announced their return to the Dark Side? And how much longer would Albus  
Dumbledore be around to protect the world? If Dumbledore was gone, there would be nothing left  
on earth to even believe in, Harry thought. The professor was the most powerful wizard in the  
world, the only reason that Good still conquered over Evil. But if he was getting older, who  
would take his place? . . . . .  
  
Harry got up from his bed, wanting to do something to take his mind off worry. He opened  
his door and went downstairs, looking for Aunt Petunia. He was going to volunteer to do some  
yard work, as long as he didn't have to clean up afterward.  
  
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%%  
  
  
Dust rolled in like fine snow through Harry's open car window, making him choke, and he pulled  
up his shirt collar. He and the Dursleys were on their way to Ottery St. Catchpole, and the  
three family members were breathing through handkerchiefs, although they had "forgotten" one  
for Harry. The air conditioner had broken down about a week ago and everyone was exceptionally  
hot, although Dudley had a fan that ran on batteries.   
  
Harry squinted out into the dusty, heat-baked road, looking for the little town. Nothing.  
The air was billowing with heat waves and it looked as though this part of the country hadn't  
gotten rain for a long time. He sat back, miserably smothered under the temperature of his  
shirt.   
  
About thirty minutes later they rattled into Ottery St. Catchpole, and Harry leaned  
forward again, excitement flooding him. It wouldn't be long now, there was Stoatshead Hill . . . . .  
the car passed through the village . . . . . . they were turning off the main road . . . . . down the  
drive . . . . . there was the Burrow!  
  
"What is this pile of rubbish? Not where they live, I hope," sneered Uncle Vernon, a  
wicked smile on his face. "Well, have a wonderful time, boy."  
  
"Wait," said Harry, opening the car door and trying to think of an excuse for the Dursleys  
to have to come inside. "You had better go see Mrs. Weasley. I think she'll want to give you  
some money for driving me here." The chances of the Weasleys giving even spare change for  
something like this was almost impossible, but Uncle Vernon didn't know that, so Harry went on.  
"You know, she feels awful that you had to take the time to come to the Burrow."  
  
"Well, I suppose," said Uncle Vernon, his expression changing as Harry heaved his trunk   
and Hedwig's cage out of the back. "Come on Dudders," he continued, "I want you to see that   
there is nothing to be afraid of because I'm here. Your father isn't scared of anything!" Dudley  
cowered in his seat though, so Uncle Vernon puffed out his chest and grabbed his son'swrist, trying  
to force the boy out of the car.  
  
It took Uncle Vernon pulling and Aunt Petunia pushing to get Dudley to leave the safety  
of the vehicle, and he was sending up a squall through every bit of it. By the time that that  
had been accomplished, Harry had dragged his trunk up to the doorstep and was leaning against  
the wall of the house, watching. Suddenly a whisper came from the other side of the garden   
barrier.  
  
"Harry!" it said, and he saw a shock of red hair bobbing just over the edge. Harry smirked  
and went into the garden. Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny were all crouching behind the stone  
fence, hiding. Harry immediately stooped also. Then Fred spoke, a grin covering his entire face.  
"Harry, Mum asked us to de-gnome the garden . . . . . We thought it might be more fun this way."  
  
Harry's eyes widened, then narrowed with a mischievous aspect. He sniggered and quietly  
complimented the twins on their idea, just as the three Muggles reached Harry's trunk, Dudley  
covering his bottom with his hands and whimpering like a little puppy.  
  
"Ready?" whispered Ron, a rare wicked smile on his face. Harry nodded and picked up a  
gnome that was trying to smuggle a carrot.  
  
"GO!!!"   
  
The Dursleys turned, their looks of surprise becoming immense terror when they saw what  
was happening. The Weasleys and Harry were lined up against the garden wall, their facial   
displays full of contempt, each with a gnome in their hand. Suddenly the their arm muscles  
seemed to work, and the Dursleys were pelted head-on with a multitude of flying gnomes. Mrs.  
Dursley started squawking and screeching like a crow and a banshee at the same time and tried to  
half gallop, half jump to the cover of the car, while Dudley began wobbling around in circles,  
shrieking nothing discernable but gibberish, his face resembling a frog with abnormally large  
eyes.   
  
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING BOY?" bellowed Uncle Vernon, his face turning to a dark shade   
of plum. He dove over the stone wall and tried to tackle Harry, but not before he was pummeled with  
gnomes and fell to the ground, face in the earth.   
  
Harry and Ron were trying to throw the creatures but were laughing so hard that they had  
to grab the support of the fence. Ginny was aiming for Aunt Petunia and Fred and George were  
swinging the gnomes over their heads like lassos, then throwing full-fledged at Dudley, who, by  
this time, had gnomes hanging from three of his chins, one of his ears, and his rear-end.  
  
Uncle Vernon, still lying in the dirt, made a grab for Harry but stopped suddenly. He held  
up his finger and looked at it, then screwed up his face into a squished purple mess and began  
to bawl loudly. A gnome was hanging by its teeth from his hand, hissing its speech as its mouth  
was full.  
  
"'Ey, don' you efer squaf me agin, you bombuf pig!" it hissed  
  
This made Uncle Vernon howl with even more volume and get up, dancing around the garden in  
pain."IT BIT ME! THE BLOODY THING BIT ME! GET IT OFF!" He ripped the gnome from his finger   
and dropped it, then tore through the garden, spraying a plot of radishes in the air as he turned  
the corner as fast as his bulky form could go. Dudley was still clomping in circles like an  
insane maniac, spit and warbling nonsense dribbling from his mouth. As Uncle Vernon dashed past  
him, he grabbed his son's lardy wrist and tugged him into a productive motion toward the car.  
  
As the auto turned around to leave Uncle Vernon stuck his head out the window and bellowed  
at the top of his lungs, "YOU'LL BE SORRY YOU DID THAT, POTTER! NEXT SUMMER YOU'LL   
WORK LIKE A – ARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!"  
  
Fred had chucked one final gnome and hit Uncle Vernon square on the head. After that the  
man rolled up his window, screeching the tires of the car as he left.  
  
"Well, that was a spot of fun, wasn't it, boys?" said George, primping his hair as if it  
had been mussed up by the activity. "Off to the kitchen then!"  
  
When they entered the house they were not greeted by cheers, however. Mrs. Weasley came  
shrieking in on them, adding a, "Hello, Harry dear." rather rapidly, then went roaring off into  
a lecture about playing jokes on Muggles.   
  
" – and your father trying to be the Minister of Magic and all! Muggles are defenseless. You  
know very well that it isn't right to do what you did!"   
  
"But Mum, Harry isn't happy with them; they were mean!" put in Ron, trying to defend the  
group's actions.  
  
"That's no excuse for you to be playing tricks!" she said. "And I'm sure that Dudley is  
off his eating restriction, isn't he Harry?"   
  
"Actually he's still on his diet, Mrs. Weasley," Harry told her quietly. As it had the   
year before, this pacified Ron's mother and she used magic to carry Harry's trunk up the stairs  
instead of making him haul it.   
  
"You poor dear, not getting enough food! What I would like to know is how they could do  
that to somebody? Starve you and make you work? Really . . . . "  
  
"It isn't that horrible, Mrs. Weasley. I mean I got – Ow!"  
  
Ron had elbowed him in the ribs, murmuring, "You're not helping our story," in a hushed  
enough tone for his mother not to hear.  
  
"Well anyway Mum, we'll be going now," said Fred and George, who had side-stepped over to  
the rickety staircase in an inconspicuous manner, only halting to say their line before hurtling  
up the steps.  
  
"I don't think so, boys!" she said, her voice rising again and carrying up to the twins   
who were halfway through the first flight of steps. "I have a hunch that it was your idea to  
'de-gnome' the garden in such a manner."  
  
Fred's voice sounded shocked from up the stairs. "Mum! How could you even think of  
accusing us? It's perfectly plain that it was Ginny!"  
  
"What?!" cried Ginny. "It was not!"  
  
"Quiet down, Ginny, I know it wasn't you," soothed Mrs. Weasley. "Now I want all of you,  
except for Harry, to go outside and at least finish the de-gnoming. He's going to be fed."  
  
"No, Mrs. Weasley, I'll help," he said, not liking that he got out of the situation the  
easy way. "I was just as bad as they were. And they only attacked the Dursleys because I don't  
like them."  
  
"Harry, you're a guest."  
  
"That doesn't make a difference," he said, then turned to be the first one to head for the  
door into the fiery day outside.  
  
"I'll have something for you to eat when you're finished!" she called after him.  
  
Harry really didn't mind de-gnoming the garden. In fact, he quite enjoyed it. Competitions  
began and Harry challenged George to see how far they could each throw their gnome. He beat  
George by about five feet and before he knew it, the task was over. The group went inside,  
wiping their brows.  
  
Ginny, Fred and George went upstairs immediately, but Harry and Ron stayed in the kitchen,  
Harry gulping down one slice of custard pie after another. They talked about his chances of  
becoming Quidditch captain, and, like Hermione, Ron thought that Harry would make it.  
  
"We'll practice a lot too," said Ron, grinning. "Not that you'll need it."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes but smiled. He had many good days at the Burrow to look forward to,  
and wasn't going to waste any of them worrying about anything besides having fun. A week later,  
however, it did cross his mind that Hedwig still hadn't come back from delivering his letter to  
Sirius.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
A/N: SORRY ABOUT THE GRAMATICAL ERRORS, HOW SHORT IT IS, AND HOW IT TOOK   
SO LONG TO GET UP BUT I REALLY DIDN'T HAVE TIME. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW! 


	3. Flourish and Blotts

A/N: EVERYTHING BUT THE "PLOT" BELONGS TO JK ROWLING.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter THREE: Flourish and Blotts  
  
  
"I just don't understand," said Ron, looking at a piece of parchment that had been brought in  
by an owl that was swooping over his head. "Why didn't Hermione write to me? She's been sending  
plenty of letters to you since you borrowed Errol to deliver that first one that was a  
response to your birthday card, but she doesn't so much as even ask about me."  
  
"I'm sure she's just been busy and hasn't thought of it since your birthday isn't in the  
middle of summer," Harry answered, trying to console Ron, whose face was getting redder by the  
second.  
  
"Just listen to this!" he said, his eyes bulging slightly. "'Bulgaria is fascinating,  
Harry, you really ought to take a trip here in if you get the chance. Victor's home was built  
in the late fifteenth century and has a history of being the residency of many great wizards,  
including Daryl the Cross-Eyed, who redesigned the architecture. My mum was quite fascinated  
at how there was two of everything, and says she wouldn't mind staying here longer except that  
she keeps getting lost on her way to the table every morning.' Now really Harry, doesn't it  
sound like she's doing more research about Krum's house then Bulgaria?"  
  
Harry had to admit that it did sound like Hermione was engrossed in Krum and his home,  
but it was none of his business, anyway. "Don't worry about it, Ron, she's left already. Why  
don't you write to her and ask her if she wants to meet us when we go to Diagon Alley this  
week?"  
  
Ron looked as though this wasn't a bad idea. He immediately went over to his Hogwarts  
trunk and began to rummage around inside it, looking for parchment, a quill, and some ink.  
After he had found these things he sat down on his worn Chudley Cannons bedspread and began  
to scribble, mumbling things like, "Ha! Try and ignore me now, Hermione!"  
  
Harry looked out the window with the thought of another letter, one from Sirius. Three  
weeks had passed since Harry's birthday and their was still no sign of a response, or of  
Hedwig, for that matter. Was Sirius so far away that she couldn't reach him in a short amount  
of time, or was there another reason? Now that he thought of it, the last he had heard from  
his godfather had been a signed permission slip for Hogsmeade and a short note talking of the  
most recent news on Voldemort; that had been right after school had gotten out. But Harry  
didn't know what he could do other than wait, because he had already asked Mrs. Weasley, who,  
being in the hospital wing last year after the Triwizard Tournament, had met the convicted  
murderer. Mr. Weasley had been told of the circumstances, and Dumbledore frequently sent both  
of them owls on Sirius' whereabouts and condition, although if the letter was intercepted,  
Sirius was simply referred to as "Snuffles." Mrs. Weasley didn't know anything of Sirius'  
present state, she told him regretfully, and Harry couldn't very well ask Ron's dad because  
the man was hardly ever present at the Burrow, busy with work as he was. Harry tried to comfort  
himself and Ron with the thought that if Dumbledore wasn't concerned, they had no right to be.  
  
The week went by and Harry spent his time with Ron, practicing Wronski Feints and  
Quidditch just the same as he would have had Hedwig returned with a note from Sirius. The day  
that they were to leave for Diagon Alley approached and the whole of the Weasley troop got  
themselves situated for their escapade. Right as he was checking the condition of his robes  
for the coming term, however, Harry thought he heard something tapping on the window in an  
irregular fashion, but couldn't be sure because of the racket that the ghoul was making  
clanging on the pipes. He went over to check and sure enough, Hedwig was fluttering just  
outside the glass, a torn and rather grubby piece of parchment tied to her leg. Harry threw  
up the window and Hedwig soared in, landing on his outstretched arm and holding up a talon to  
Harry wearily. He immediately pulled off the letter and opened it, calling to Ron, who was  
loading socks into his cauldron.  
  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Sorry to have worried you. I'm perfectly fine, I've just been on the move so much that it  
probably took Hedwig a while to catch up with me. I'm doing some work for the ministry,  
although indirectly, through Dumbledore.   
  
Muggle killings have indeed started again; just the other day an entire family was  
found dead by a "freak accident" as they put it in the Muggle papers. Seems that some wizards  
– Death Eaters, no doubt – used the Avada Kedavra on everyone except for one witch, the  
daughter of the Muggles, and apparently they modified her memory. The ministry is going to  
have a hard time working through the charm . . . it takes a powerful wizard to use the Avada  
Kedavra, as you know, so imagine how strongly her memory is modified! Besides that, such  
an intense spell is very likely to injure her mind in the process, however we can only hope for  
the best.  
  
The reason that you haven't heard of this is because the ministry is trying to keep it  
hushed up and the Daily Prophet has been ordered not to report the details of the deaths.  
Goodness knows how the public would react to Voldemort being back and out killing again,  
although the Wizarding World will have to learn the truth sometime. The loss has been  
recognized, but I've not got any idea how long they'll try to keep it quiet.  
  
I've been mainly using my Animagus form to spy and learn what I can . . . but I'm not  
sure this cover will last much longer. Dumbledore has arranged for me to have an inconspicuous  
hideout for the year that is close enough to Hogwarts for me to be able to get to the school  
in an emergency. (Happily, it also has a good stock of food to keep me going.)  
  
I'm sorry I haven't been able to get you a birthday present, Harry. I'll look into it as  
soon as I can. And make sure to tell Dumbledore and myself if your scar hurts; it's more  
important than you realize. Say hello to Ron and Hermione for me.  
  
– Sirius  
  
  
Harry breathed a sigh of relief as he let the letter float down into his trunk. Ron, who  
had been reading over his shoulder, was wearing a slight grin, despite the letter having bad  
news in it. "Well what do you think of that?" he asked, picking up a pair of socks from where  
he had dropped them on the floor. "He's got himself a job!"  
  
"I don't know . . . . But what about those Muggles?" Harry said, frowning with thought.  
  
"Do you reckon Lucius Malfoy is involved? After all, he is supposed to be in charge of  
that sort of thing . . . . " Ron said, a bit of hope in his voice at getting Malfoy in trouble.  
  
"Didn't your mum say the other day that he's busy at the ministry, trying to run against  
your dad for Fudge's spot? But I suppose there are a lot of rumors going around about him too,  
I mean, he doesn't totally keep his standing about those situations low-profile. But the  
ministry doesn't believe that Vol – er – You-Know-Who's back, do they? They just think his  
supporters are out there, right? . . . . Sort of like how the Dark Mark was shot up last year,  
only worse."  
  
"Yeah, that's right . . . . But I'm surprised the Muggle killings passed this quietly. You  
would think that someone using the worst of the Unforgivable Curses would have caused more of  
an outrage, you know, something that a reporter like Rita Skeeter would be on."  
  
"If the Daily Prophet had been allowed to tell more about it, it probably would have been.  
But the ministry has got to be in a bad state! They're most likely having the time of their  
lives trying to break that memory charm."  
  
Suddenly Ginny appeared at the door, flushing a little when Harry looked her straight in  
the eyes. "Mum says it's time to go," she reported, then turned and retreated down the stairs  
hurriedly.  
  
Harry bent down and snatched Sirius' letter, pocketing it with a mind to show Hermione,  
who had also sent them a note, saying that she would be able to meet them at Diagon Alley that  
day. Ron grabbed his booklist that both of them would be able to use, then the pair of them  
started down the steps.  
  
The rest of the group: Fred, George, Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny, were already waiting, Ginny  
having just stepped inside the fireplace with a pinch of Floo powder. "Diagon Alley!" she  
shouted, then disappeared from the high green flames.  
  
Fred and George went next, and finally Harry's turn came. He took a bit of the powder  
and threw it into the fireplace, once again turning the shoots of flame an emerald hue. He  
stepped inside the fire and felt only a warm breeze, then yelled, "Diagon Alley!" and was  
quickly swept away.   
  
He whirled around and around, a number of scenes flicking before his eyes until he saw  
three red heads. He stepped forward at the same time the spinning stopped and found himself  
next to the Weasleys, who were already sweeping themselves clean of ash with a brush. He  
recognized the spot that they had landed in as the Leaky Cauldron, the merrily crackling fire  
next to them part of a side chamber off the actual tavern.   
  
After Fred had finished his brushing he handed the instrument to Harry, who completed  
cleaning himself off as soon as Ron showed up, followed by Mrs. Weasley. When they had all  
gotten the ash off of themselves, Mrs. Weasley started off down the street, closely trailed  
by Ginny. "You boys go get your things," she called behind her. "And put the bill on our tab.  
It'll be shorter that way. We'll meet back here in two hours."  
  
Fred and George mysteriously sauntered off to the joke shop and Harry and Ron started for  
Gringotts, that being where they had agreed to meet Hermione. They passed a few people they  
knew: Lee Jordan, who was headed in the direction of the joke shop possibly to rendezvous with  
Fred and George, Seamus Finnigan, looking taller than they had last seen him, Cho Chang, who  
made Harry blush after she waved in his direction with a smile, and the Creevey brothers, both  
of whom tugged on their father's hands to pull him into an introduction, which Harry quickly  
slipped out of. In not too long of a time they had made it down the street to the bank, and  
waiting on the steps with her parents was Hermione. She gave them her usual smile and addressed  
them in the same slightly-bossy tone that she always did. "Hello Ron, hello, Harry. How were  
your summers?"  
  
"Just fine," said Harry; it appeared that Ron was having trouble swallowing so Harry  
answered for him.  
  
"Good," she said. "Mine was excellent too – Ron are you all right?" asked Hermione, giving  
him a strange look.  
  
Ron pulled at the neck of his robes. "Yeah," he managed to gasp.  
  
"I still need to get my money from Gringotts," said Harry, his eyes switching between the  
two. "Why don't you go have an ice cream or something."  
  
"Sure," Hermione said, snatching the hem on Ron's sleeve and dragging him up the street.  
"It looks like it'll do him good. We'll meet you there." She turned to her parents. "Mum, Dad,  
why don't you come along?"  
  
The older couple followed their daughter and Harry was left alone on the marble steps. He  
entered Gringotts and by the time he had come out with his bag of money jingling, the sun had  
gotten considerably higher in the sky than it had last been. He made his way back up the alley  
toward Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor to get Ron and Hermione and when he arrived the  
two were sitting side by side, enjoying waffle cones and chatting. Ron stood up and tossed the  
remainder of his away. "Ready, Harry?" he asked. Harry nodded and the three of them began  
walking, Hermione turning to tell her parents that she would be back in about an hour.  
  
All three of them ran their errands: Harry had to get new robes because he had grown so  
much over the summer, Ron wanted to grab a new quill, and Hermione insisted that they stop and  
buy something for Crookshanks. After browsing around the Magical Menagerie for a while and still  
finding nothing, Hermione settled on a bag of cat treats that when fed to the feline were supposed to  
make its fur stand on end and change color constantly for fifteen minutes.  
  
They halted in front of the Apothecary and Harry refilled his supplies of jellyfish  
poison, rat's teeth, and filed mountain goat horn, then the trio headed for Flourish and  
Blotts.   
  
"Let's see," said Ron, examining the list of books required. "THE STANDARD BOOK  
OF SPELLS, GRADE FIVE and A GUIDE TO ADVANCED TRANSFIGURATION is all we  
need," he told the other two. "I wonder why Professor Trelawny didn't tell us to get anything new for  
Divination." He shrugged. "Old bat's probably too busy predicting our deaths that were supposed to  
have happened over the summer."  
  
With that he went off to get three copies of THE STANDARD BOOK OF SPELLS  
and Harry looked around for the Transfiguration section, while Hermione occupied herself trying to  
find a new Arithmancy book. Harry skimmed the floating signs above the aisles, pointing him in the  
right direction. At the very end of the store was the Transfiguration label, suspended in the air. Harry  
made his way down to it and turned into the rather darkened section to find that the schoolbooks were  
all lined up on shelves at the far end. He pulled out three copies of the book he needed, and then started  
back. Harry was about to turn the corner when a sudden blast of pain ripped through his forehead, his  
scar suddenly screaming with life as though someone had heaved a white-hot branding iron down on  
him. He dropped the books unconsciously and his hands flew to his scar, his vision starting to blur with  
a pain that left him stumbling to his knees. He called out to Ron and continued to clutch his head. Then  
all of a sudden the pain started to retreat slightly, as though the source was being taken away but the  
damage done was continuing to flame on its own.  
"Yeah Harry, what did you – Harry!" Harry lifted his gaze, still blurry as it was, to see  
Ron stooped beside him, frantic. "Hold on, I'm going to get the shop keeper . . . "  
  
"No, don't Ron," said Harry through clenched teeth. "Just wait here . . . it'll pass. Give me  
a few seconds but don't leave."  
  
"Right," said Ron, looking around anxiously to see if Hermione was close.  
  
The pain was leaving Harry slowly and soon enough he was able to stand with just his head  
throbbing violently. Ron picked up the books and Harry tried to look as though nothing had  
happened. Hermione was already standing with her newly-bought books by the register, her face  
showing agitation. "What took so long?" she demanded, tapping her foot slightly. Ron gave her  
a dark glare and the impatience swept off her face.  
  
By the time the trio had their books safely tucked away and had found a good corner along  
the street in which they could talk without being noticed, Harry's scar was only barely aching.  
He handed Hermione Sirius' letter. "Read this," he said.  
  
She took the note and scanned it, then handed it back to Harry. "I wonder why they don't  
get Dumbledore to break the memory charm?" she wondered aloud.  
  
Harry answered. "Probably don't want anything to do with him. After all, Fudge is still  
Minister of Magic and everyone – "  
  
"All right, Harry, enough stalling," said Ron, giving him a slightly piercing look. "What  
was that about your scar burning back there? And why couldn't I leave to go get help?"  
  
Hermione's eyes widened. "That's why you two took so long to get the books? Harry, this is  
serious, we can't just stand here and talk, we need to go get Mrs. Weasley!"  
  
"Calm down, Hermione," Harry said wearily. "You couldn't go get help, Ron, because I  
didn't want whatever it was that made my scar react to come back from where it had disappeared  
to when you came over . . . You know I don't have any idea what might have made my scar to hurt a  
little but – "  
  
Ron interrupted him again. "It was not just hurting a little, Harry. It was almost as bad  
as that time in Divination!"  
  
"In any case, we don't know what caused it. I mean it couldn't have been Voldemort, not  
here. On the other hand, no one else could have done it . . . . . "  
  
"In a bookshop, Harry? In the middle of the Wizarding Community? Not very likely," said  
Ron skeptically.  
  
"No one else could make my scar go off like that!" Harry persisted. "And think how easy  
it would be for him if I was just by myself. It would be fast; it wouldn't need much planning."  
  
"But if that was the case, how would he know that at one certain time you weren't going  
to be protected? And why wouldn't he have tried it before?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Well, he would only attack me now instead of before if he was really desperate to kill  
me without royalties included, right? And he might be spying," Harry said guessing the answers.   
  
"Has your scar hurt any other time during the summer, Harry?" she questioned.  
  
"A few times it started burning . . . but it never actually hurt, so I didn't think it was  
important enough to worry anyone about."  
  
"Oh, Harry, why didn't you write anyone? Like Snuffles said, it's more important than you  
think! This could lead to all kinds of things and those little times your scar hurt could be  
signs of him watching you! Dumbledore would want – "  
  
"Wouldn't your scar have burned in a dream about the Muggles that were killed just now  
like it did last year when you had that one about Wormtail and You-Know-Who?" asked Ron,  
interrupting yet again with a subject out of the blue, although saving Harry from listening  
to Hermione's list of consequences.  
  
"Not unless it was Voldemort" – Ron flinched – "who had done the murdering," Harry  
answered.  
  
There was a short silence in which the three of them were left thinking. "I just don't  
understand how or why You-Know-Who would come here and risk being discovered," said Hermione,  
breaking the quiet spell. "He couldn't have Apparated with the ministry keeping tabs and all,  
and he would be uncovered in an instant if he was wearing an invisibility cloak, with all the  
shadows and people that would be liable to hit him."  
  
"I remember once when I was in my first year, Dumbledore told me that he didn't need a  
cloak to be invisible . . . . " said Harry, his recollection accompanied by a bout of curiosity.  
  
"Imperceptuous Charm," Hermione clarified, snapping her fingers in her forgetfulness. "It  
takes an extraordinarily strong wizard to complete the spell, mainly because its effect has all  
of the qualities of an Invisibility Cloak but also muffles sound, obliterates shadow, and makes  
any passerby able to walk right through the wizard without noticing any difference in climate  
or air quality. The catch is that it only lasts for an hour, and you must have a licence,  
although the ministry doesn't keep track anymore. Too few people could perform it, so they  
figured it was pointless."  
  
"Then that is a possibility, except we've been here much more than an hour," said Ron.  
"He couldn't really have found a totally hidden spot to renew himself, could he? I mean  
You-Know-Who wouldn't be able to just come from out of nowhere, say hello and then disappear."  
  
"The only other way that I can think of for him to get here would be to ride in on a  
Thestral," said Hermione, now starting to rub her temples with concentration. "But that  
wouldn't help him to follow Harry through crowds and into shops unless he was very slick with  
an Invisibility Cloak, which is unlikely."  
  
But Ron was stuck. "A Thes – what?"  
  
"Goodness, Ron, don't you ever read? A Thestral. It's a type of Winged Horse that  
possesses the power of invisibility," said Hermione impatiently.  
  
"So," said Harry, concluding the matter in his mind. "Basically we have no idea how  
Voldemort (Would you quit?!) got to me or stayed out of the way of everyone else, but we do  
know it was him."  
  
With this statement Hermione squared her shoulders resolutely. "But you are going to  
write to Professor Dumbledore and Sirius, and now we are going to go get Mrs. Weasley."  
  
"Our time's almost up anyway," Ron pointed out, looking down at his watch. "It's a pity  
though . . . I did want to pick up a few dungbombs before the start of term . . . . "  
  
Hermione glared icily at him and started walking, leaving the other two to follow.  
Harry really hoped no one was going to make a big deal of this, and he didn't want to worry  
either Dumbledore or Sirius, although it was unavoidable.  
  
When they got to the spot that they had arrived on, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were already  
waiting, situated comfortably in a set of chairs close to the fire, but Fred and George were  
still missing. Harry took it upon himself to beckon Mrs. Weasley out of hearing's range from the  
rest of the group and then he told her his story. Her face took on a stricken look of surprise,  
fear, and guilt.  
  
"But please don't tell anybody but Mr. Weasley and Dumbledore," Harry finished. "I really  
don't want a big scene made out of this . . . . "  
  
"Yes, yes of course, dear," said Mrs. Weasley, the realization that Voldemort was material  
more than spirit seeming to hit her hard. "Harry, forgive me for not going with you! How could  
I have ever thought to leave you alone – "  
  
"I understand, Mrs. Weasley. It is only my scar burning, after all."  
  
"No, H-Harry, it's much more than that. I know you know that it is dangerous, but this  
time he was actually close by. And think of w-what could have happened to you since I wasn't  
paying attention!" she said, her face contracting as she was about to cry.  
  
Harry patted her comfortingly on the arm. "Really, Mrs. Weasley . . . "  
  
At that she burst into tears and hurried to the other room, pulling out her handkerchief  
and trying to stifle her sobs, leaving Harry standing alone. He went back to the others with a  
slight grimace. "Didn't go too well," he said in a low whisper to hide it from Ginny.  
  
Suddenly Fred and George burst in, a set of strange sort of grins covering their faces.  
Their pockets were bulging and Harry overheard George say as he walked through the door,  
" . . . . the best year old Hogwarts has ever known!"  
  
"Harry," said Fred, walking over toward him, "in honor of you giving us those Galleons  
last term, we've decided to crack off our last year at Hogwarts with the biggest season of  
pranks yet."  
  
"We'll pull one on Peeves," added George.  
  
"And Filch," said Fred.  
  
"And everyone in the entire school. You'll all receive complimentary toilet seats, too,"  
said George with an evil smile.  
  
Mrs. Weasley appeared at the entrance to the room, cutting Fred and George's proclamation  
off. Her eyes were a bit red, but nobody but Harry seemed to notice. "We'd better be going,"  
she told them, pulling out a bag of Floo Powder and offering it to George.   
  
"I should, too," said Hermione. She waved to everyone but before she started toward the  
door she whispered to Ron and Harry in an unobtrusive way. "You two take care of yourselves,  
and Harry, don't forget to write to Dumbledore and Sirius." The two boys nodded and then  
Hermione left.  
  
They all took a pinch of the powder and in a whisk they arrived back at the Burrow. Harry  
went directly upstairs to send the letters with poor, tired Hedwig who had only had a couple  
hours of rest and realized that he really should be scared that Voldemort had gotten that close  
to him without ado. But for some reason he wasn't; he was more curious at how the Dark Lord had  
done it.   
  
He sent Hedwig off into the graying sky and hoped against hope that his news wouldn't  
give either of the receivers unwanted worry, then sat down with Ron to play a heartless  
game of Exploding Snap.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
A/N: IN ALL PAST AND FUTURE CHAPTERS, I APOLOGIZE FOR BAD GRAMMAR AND  
SPELLING. ITALICS WERE PULLED BECAUSE OF THE FORMAT TOO, SO SOME OF THE  
THINGS THATSHOULD HAVE BEEN ITALICIZED WERE NOT. PLEASE TELL ME HOW IT  
TURNED OUT; I DIDN'T REALLY GET A GOOD FEEL FOR THIS CHAPTER ON MY OWN,  
PARTLY OWING TO THE CONVERSATION THAT HARRY, RON, AND HERMIONE HAD.  
(I'M THE WORST AT CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN CHARACTERS.) THANKS, AND  
PLEASE, AS USUAL, REVIEW!!!! 


	4. The Hogwarts Express and Beyond

A/N: EVERYTHING BUT THE "PLOT" BELONGS TO JK ROWLING.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter FOUR: The Hogwarts Express and Beyond  
  
  
As it had been the year before, the weather on September first was wet, giving the parched countryside a long, well-deserved drink. Harry pulled on his sweatshirt and went downstairs with Ron for a quick breakfast, the puddles outside the windows plunking heavily with raindrops and the formerly dry, crusted moss once again soaked with water.  
  
Both of the twins were wolfing down toast and marmalade and Ginny was also at the table, spearing her eggs quickly. Harry and Ron sat down only to stand right up again.  
  
"DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME IT IS?!!" screeched Mrs. Weasley, pointing at her watch. "GET UPSTAIRS THIS INSTANT AND GRAB YOUR TRUNKS!!"   
  
There was a sudden scuttling to get to the stairwell and Harry didn't even have time to snatch any toast before he was pushed up the steps by Ron. They arrived at the landing breathless and managed to haul their trunks back down, although Hedwig's cage was almost crushed. Just as they got downstairs a horn outside honked impatiently, and off they went again, Ginny thunking down the flight behind them with her luggage.  
  
When everyone was inside the Ministry cars and their baggage had been safely stowed in back, the two vehicles started off for King's Cross. The traffic was especially bad today for some reason, and up in the passenger seat Mrs. Weasley sat nervously biting her thumb nail, her eyes constantly on her watch. They made it to the station with enough time though, and soon they had their trunks rolling through the platforms on carts.   
  
Between nine and ten the group stopped and Fred went first through the wall, going at a run. George followed, then Harry and Ron, and finally Mrs. Weasley and Ginny, each of them trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. On the other side of the barrier Harry found the scarlet steam engine waiting for the last passengers to board. He hurriedly put Hedwig's cage in a compartment toward the back of the train then loaded his trunk on as well, finally sitting down, breathless, as the train whistle blew. Ron joined him soon after.   
  
They both sat puffing, as they caught their breath, and Harry heard his stomach rumble, remembering his breakfast, or lack of one. He frowned at the thought that lunch would be quite a while from now.  
  
Ron stood up. "Well, I'm going to find Hermione," he said, opening the compartment door. "You want to come?"  
  
"Sure," Harry replied rather apathetically, thinking more about food. They left, peering through the windows to see if they could spot anyone that might know where Hermione was. Finally they found her, sitting with Parvati and Lavender, chatting happily away about her summer with Krum.  
  
Hermione looked up when the door slid open. "Oh hello Ron, Harry! I was just telling Parvati and Lavender about . . . Oh never mind, then," she said, blushing furiously. Ron was glaring at her and she avoided his eyes as she got up. "Goodbye!" she said to the two girls. "I'll see you at the Feast!"   
  
They left and Ron walked quite fast, leaving Hermione and Harry in his wake. As soon as they got to the compartment Harry expected him to burst out savagely at Hermione, but instead he only sat down and ignored her.   
  
"D'you want to play a game of Exploding Snap, Harry?" he asked, brandishing a pack of cards.  
  
Harry nodded. "Hermione?" Harry asked her, narrowing his eyes at Ron. Hermione, however, shook her head and looked out the window, so the game started.  
  
Lunchtime arrived and by then both friends had calmed down. Ron even helped carry some of Hermione's food back from the cart, and Hermione smiled and accepted when he offered her a Chocolate Frog. Harry, however, didn't pay much attention, as he was so engulfed in his meal.  
  
The rest of the trip passed uneventfully, an occasional friend dropping by to say hello from the summer's gap. Harry, quite happily, did not see any sign of Malfoy, Crabbe, or Goyle, and he rather hoped to keep it that way. Eventually, too, the clouds disappeared, leaving a sunset of blazing red behind the mountains and a reflection of pink off the rock walls. Soon all that was visible were the bright, twinkling stars and the navy stretch of sky as it covered the earth like a heavy blanket.  
  
The train stopped at its station at Hogsmeade and Harry yawned and got out of his seat. As usual when he stepped outside, he heard Hagrid's voice booming out over the crowd of heads to greet the first years.  
  
"Firs' years, firs' years!" it called, and as Harry passed the lantern-lit figure to get to the carriages, Hagrid waved at him. "Harry! Yeh'll get a big surprise when yeh get to the castle – it's not exactly how Dumbledore wanted it or anythin' but it'll do fine. Jus' be sure that yeh stick close to Ron and Hermione, alrigh'?"  
  
"Alright, Hagrid," said Harry with curiosity as he waved goodbye.  
  
Harry got into a carriage with Hermione and Ron and they only waited a short time before starting off, heading toward Hogwarts.  
  
"A surprise...." said Harry, wondering aloud. "You don't think it's a kind of magical creature do you?"  
  
"I bet it's a whole lot of Blast-Ended Skrewts," said Ron glumly. "Knowing Hagrid...You know this is probably what he was talking about, when he said he was going to work on something over the summer, with Madame Maxime."  
  
"I rather think that's a different matter, although I could be wrong...." said Hermione.  
  
"Yeah, great, Hermione," Ron replied sarcastically. He was still glaring into the darkness, probably waiting for an explosion to occur somewhere behind the trees.  
  
The coaches moved constantly on, and then suddenly stopped. Ron, Harry, and Hermione stayed in silence for a moment, then Harry opened the door to see what had caused the trouble. He was not alone. Along the entire line of carriages, heads were peeping out and looking around. Nothing seemed to be wrong, except that the whole procession of the black, horseless vehicles had come to a halt.   
  
Harry dropped onto solid ground. "I'm going to go see what the matter is," he said. Just as he was about to start off for the front of the line, Professor McGonagall's voice, magically magnified, came through.  
  
"Stay in your carriages please, as they will be starting again in a few moments," it said. Harry raised his eyebrows but got back inside.  
  
"I wonder..." he said curiously, sitting back down.  
  
The coaches did indeed continue in a matter of minutes, and Harry sat back and relaxed.   
  
Without warning, there came screams and shouts from ahead of them. Harry sat up straight, and looked quickly through the window, but not fast enough. The yells turned into mere echoes before he could see properly, and when he DID look, everything appeared normal – the carriages were all steadily moving up the road toward the castle entrance.   
  
"What's going on, Harry?" asked Hermione anxiously. She couldn't see from where she was sitting.  
  
"I'm not sure," he said, squinting hard. There came another wave of screams which were instantly mirrored...Harry saw a carriage pass through the gates of Hogwarts. "What the....?" said Harry, gaping.  
  
Ripples had appeared in the clear air and had bounced away as the carriage went entirely through the gates. It reminded Harry of a stone being dropped into water, the stone still visible as it traveled on, leaving only ripples behind.  
  
At this Ron peeped out the other window and Hermione got out of her seat to join him.   
  
The next carriage was almost to the invisible wall, which seemed to start at the gate. Harry saw Malfoy's stunned face just as the coach went through, and he heard Ron and Hermione gasp at what they saw. "What WAS that?" asked Ron, his eyes as big as saucers.  
  
Hermione looked speechless. She sat down again, thought for a moment, then just shook her head. "I don't know," she said.  
  
No one said anything else, and when Harry looked out the window again, he found that they were only a few carriages away from the gates.  
  
"Alright," said Ron, looking scared. "Well it can't be that bad. They – " he gulped " – made it to the other side, after all."  
  
Harry just looked straight ahead, then sat down without saying anything. The other two did the same, and together they waited for what was bound to happen.   
  
The first intimation that Harry had of what it was like to go through the barrier came when the front of the carriage plunged into it. All of a sudden there WAS no front of the carriage, only a gigantic cloud of color that seemed to swirl endlessly, and before Harry knew it, he was inside it.  
  
Roaring sound filled his ears – freezing water flew around him – he felt as if he was moving backward very rapidly, but that didn't make sense because he knew the carriage was taking him forward – he couldn't hear Ron and Hermione's yells – couldn't hear his own –   
  
Without warning Harry landed back on the carriage seat. He looked around him and sure enough, Hermione and Ron were sitting opposite him, and outside the coach was moving on uphill.  
  
"What – was that?" said Ron, clutching his heart with a pained expression   
  
Harry felt dazed, but he seemed to recall something like this happening to him before. "I think I remember...." he said, cutting off...he couldn't quite put his finger on it.....   
  
"We've gone back in time," said Hermione as though she'd just had a light turned on in her head. "It's only that – Dumbledore – he's done it! He's – well, never mind, he'll tell you at the Feast of course," she said.  
  
"He's done what?" asked Ron, who was beginning to look like a cornered mouse. "You mean to tell me that he's sent us back – how far has he...?" Ron was pale as a sheet but Hermione gave him an unsympathetic look.   
  
"Oh, stop that! He's done it for a good reason, and it's nothing to be afraid of!" she said rather impatiently.  
  
Ron swallowed. "Right," he said.  
  
"But this can't be the same as before – with Sirius...." said Harry, puzzled.  
  
"It's not. It must be an enchantment over the whole castle or something like that," Hermione answered.   
  
Harry tried to continue. "But why – "  
  
"Dumbledore will tell you," she said quickly, and looked out the window.  
  
They were soon stopped at the doors of Hogwarts, and exited the carriage along with the rest of the dazed students. The three climbed the stone steps to the entrance hall warily. Just after they gotten inside, however, Harry heard an all-too-familiar voice sound behind him.  
  
"Hey Potter, how have you been over the holiday? Bet you're keen on getting some publicity now that you have a fan club again!"   
  
Harry turned around and, sure enough, Malfoy stood leering at him with Crabbe and Goyle on either side.  
  
"Stuff it, Malfoy," growled Ron, turning back to wait for the throng to move into the Great Hall.  
  
"Stay out of this, filth," Malfoy sneered, shooting a withering glance at Ron, who whirled around and stepped forward.  
  
"Say that one more time, Malfoy, and you'll have so many bruises on you, you'll never show your face in public again," he said.  
  
Malfoy ignored him. "Well, if I were you, Potter, I wouldn't have even STARTED handing out signed photos if I had that tatoo of a scar on my head...practically takes up the whole of yours, doesn't it? But then, who could possibly bear to look at that rubbish pile you call a face totally mystifies me....."  
  
Before Ron and Harry could even lunge forward, an earthworm the size of Harry's arm suddenly dropped from above and landed directly on Malfoy's head.  
  
"What – " was all that Malfoy managed to get out before the worm wriggled down his neck and twisted itself around his face. Malfoy's hands flew up to try and pull it off but it seemed to be secreting a sticky substance, and soon his hands were attached too. The worm had managed to elongate itself so that it covered his entire head, neck and shoulders, and Malfoy began to run around wildly, Crabbe and Goyle chasing after him, until he smacked straight into the banister of the marble staircase. Crabbe and Goyle tried to stop before they slammed into him, but their bulk would not allow it. They both collided with Malfoy, stuck to him, and all three fell to the floor, thrashing.  
  
Everyone was laughing. Despite the rather frightening entrance into the school, it was irresistible to anyone but Professor Snape.   
  
Snape himself hurried down the staircase and offered a hand to Draco. He muttered something and the earthworm shrank suddenly and landed on the floor with a splat, then the professor looked around at the abruptly silent crowd of students.  
  
"Who did this?!" he demanded loudly.   
  
No one responded but Malfoy, who had bright yellow mucus covering his entire face. "It was Potter! He threw the worm on me!" he said.  
  
"Is this true?" Snape asked of Crabbe and Goyle, totally ignoring Harry. They nodded dumbly.  
  
"It is not!" cried Harry, glaring at them.  
  
"Potter, you are in no place to tell me what is true and what isn't," Snape growled. Then, more quietly, he added, "I'm sure that bit with the carriages must have upset your memory...."  
  
Harry opened his mouth in anger but Dumbledore was already at the foot of the staircase. "Is there a problem?" he asked mildly.  
  
"No, Professor,"said Snape silkily. "It's just that Potter – "  
  
Dumbledore held up his hand. "One moment, Severus," he said, then addressed the crowd. "Everyone into the Great Hall, please!"   
  
Those who had gathered around disappointedly filed into the other room, muttering to themselves. When there was once again a steady flow of the arriving students, Dumbledore continued.   
  
"Now, I believe there has been a mistake, as I don't think Mr. Potter can fly without a broomstick. Unless I'm quite wrong, the worm came from above, didn't it?"  
  
"Yes, it did, Professor," said Hermione, her wide eyes truthful.  
  
"But – " said Malfoy, however Snape cut him off.  
  
"If that is so, Miss Granger, would you care to explain exactly WHO could have done it?" he said, snarling.  
  
"I-I don't know," she stuttered.  
  
"Well," said Dumbledore lightly, "I don't think we need to worry about who it was, just as long as Mr. Malfoy is unharmed. I'm sure the boys can find their way to the hospital wing to get cleaned up. Off to the Feast, then!" he concluded.  
  
"But Professor Dumbledore, surely you don't want to let a guilty student go free, especially after Mr. Malfoy has just been through such a shocking experience as – "  
  
"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore more sternly. "That will do." Dumbledore entered the Great Hall, trailed by a seething Snape, and Harry couldn't help noticing the headmaster's twitching mustache as he left.   
  
He and Ron were about to follow them when Hermione said that she had to go somewhere.   
  
"Not to the library?" said Ron as she left, making her way through the crowd.  
  
"I don't think so," answered Harry. He dismissed it and entered the Great Hall, then found a spot at the Gryffindor table. Strangely, Fred and George were missing also....  
  
A few minutes passed and Hermione joined them again, looking flushed and excited. "Where'd you go?" Ron asked her, puzzled.  
  
Before she could answer, though, the hall got quiet as the first years filed in. Harry had never seen a set that looked so terrified, but, as usual, they lined up facing the older students. Professor McGonagall carried in the stool and Sorting Hat and placed the pair in front of the staff table. Harry watched and waited, and sure enough...   
  
  
"I'm not the best that best can be  
In terms of dressing hats, you see.  
But if you find a smarter hat  
I'll prove you wrong, be sure of that.  
For I'm the Sorting Hat of old,  
Legends, myths, do I hold.  
But also judgement which you will  
Be subjected: Where to fill?  
You could be a Gryffindor  
Whose brav'ry heightens them for score.  
Or a gentle Hufflepuff  
Working hard they don't find rough.  
Two houses down and now two plus  
I'll tell you here and tell you thus:  
Perhaps a Ravenclaw would match  
For clever ones this house would snatch.  
Or finally a Slytherin  
The cunning, ambitious make it in.  
All these houses, founders four  
Promised students wisdom pour.  
And yet there to this very day  
Hogwarts stays without decay.  
The vow of magic knowledge still  
Fresh alive, with learning will.   
So don't be scared to try me out  
For you won't get a painful bout.  
Put me on, the choice I'll make  
To see the house that you will take."  
  
  
A pause after the Sorting Hat had finished, and then the Great Hall sounded with applause, though less enthusiastic than usual. After it had died down, Professor McGonagall again stepped forward.  
  
"You will come out and sit on the stool when I call your name, then I will put the Sorting Hat on your head," she told the first years. "After you have been sorted, you will take your seat with the appropriate House." And with that, she produced the list of names from the depths of her robe, adjusted her glasses, and began to read. "Ackalade, Jacob!" she called, and a small boy with black hair and freckles reluctantly made his way to the stool. Professor McGonagall waited until he had sat on the chair, and then set the Sorting Hat on his head. As always, it slipped down and covered his face. A short wait and then –   
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Sorting Hat. The Hufflepuff table brightened suddenly at having the first new student of the term, and they gave him a warm welcome....   
  
"Anderson, Kathleen!" called Professor McGonagall.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"   
  
The Gryffindor table clamored up and down its length as Kathleen took her seat.  
  
"Burnes, Amanda!"  
  
"SLYTHERIN!"   
  
Someone hissed Amanda as she sat down; only then did Harry notice that Fred and George had appeared, for some reason looking very satisfied....  
  
Cobb, Rebecca became a Hufflepuff and Douglas, Mortimer joined the Slytherin table. Just as Greickor, Stefan was being pronounced a Ravenclaw, Harry saw Cho for the first time since last year. She looked different somehow; not as happy as she had been. He looked away...it was HIS fault that she looked like that – from Cedric....  
  
Jeppson, Hilary sat down with the Hufflepuffs, and Kitch, Nathan was put with the Ravenclaws. Harry looked up at the enchanted ceiling, which was a deep, twinkling blue. He gazed around at the congregation of students, and noticed Nearly Headless Nick sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor table. For some reason, the ghost looked more pronounced than usual; quite bright against the black robes of everyone else.  
  
Stromwick, Lawrence became a Slytherin, and then after a few more first years, Williams, Jessica was pronounced Gryffindor. Ron leaned over to Harry and shouted through the cheering, "We haven't got many new ones this year in our House, have we?" Harry shook his head with a slight frown, but didn't have a chance to reply, as Dumbledore stood from the center chair.  
  
"A new year," said the headmaster gravely. "I have no doubt that it will bring surprises, as it already has for you entering the school. You are all probably wondering what happened when you passed the gates, and went through that interesting transformation.   
  
"Last year, after Cedric Diggory was killed, our faculty had a meeting, and decided that some measure had to be taken to prevent, as best we could, something like that from happening again. We concluded from past experience that Dementors are not a safe option, and so we took a more drastic step. We agreed to put up a kind of barrier against the things outside of Hogwarts. This barrier is only opened three times a year: the beginning of term, Christmas, and the end of term. All mail has to be scanned first, but owls are free to pass. And I'm afraid, due to complications with the villagers of Hogsmeade, that weekend trips have been canceled."  
  
At this, a breathless but outraged rumbling came from the students. Fred and George gazed at Dumbledore as if he was absolutely out of his mind. The Slytherins looked mutinous.  
  
Professor Snape stood up and looked around at everyone with a strange expression on his face that Harry had rarely seen before. There was something angry, but just in his voice; a very odd combination for someone like Snape. He spoke louder than Harry had ever heard him do. "Would you rather be protected or in danger? The Ministry of Magic is unhappy about this as it is, and you all find yourselves forgetting the reason for which these precautions have been taken. The Death Eaters are coming back; every one of you is quite aware of that. Should you be so careless as to shun the rules, just so that you can find yourselves in a mess, Dumbledore has warned you. If by some way it is possible that you disobey this warning, do not blame him for the consequences. You do not know the depth of this matter."  
  
Snape sat down again, and the entire hall was silent, rather in awe at his out-of-character words. It also seemed to impress upon the students that this was not a joking matter.  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat again. "The Barrier is quite unusual, and has aspects that are very interesting, if you will give me a moment to explain them. We are all, at this moment, inside a dome-like bubble, as you have probably guessed. The dome encompasses the Hogwarts grounds, but no farther. The most peculiar thing about this Barrier, however, is that it supports a different time than outside of its boundaries. That is to say, we are in a different time than the outside world; we have gone exactly seven years into the past – "  
  
At this, a gigantic outcry, followed by loud talking, washed up from the assembled students, and mostly everyone but Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked surprised. Some people had even gone into hysterics.  
  
"You may be wondering why, then, the PEOPLE from seven years ago are not here," continued Dumbledore in a loud voice, "It is simply because this spell excludes them.  
  
"What happens when someone hits the Barrier, then? From both the inside and the outside, the wall is invisible, and whenever someone touches it, it only feels like something solid. From the outside, however, it is impossible to see what is happening within the Barrier. For example, if a passer-by from Hogsmeade happens to travel by Hogwarts, he will only see the castle in its untouched form. Any person out on the lawns, playing Quidditch, or anything of that sort, is unseen. The only time there is an exception to that is when the Barrier is open to cross. We, however, from the inside, have the capability to watch anything on the outside. Therefore, if you spot someone strange continually lurking outside the Barrier, we ask you to alert a staff member immediately.  
  
"We would also like to inform you that no correspondence about the Barrier, outside of school and through mail, will be tolerated. As I have mentioned, all mail will be scanned by magic.  
  
"Now, on to a lighter note. We have a new staff member this term, taking the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher; Professor Figg.  
  
Harry sat staring hard as he looked up at the staff table, where Professor Figg was beaming out at the sea of applauding students. She looked particularly familiar, and that name...Figg. ARABELLA FIGG. The old lady he had stayed with when the Dursleys had gone on vacation! She was – she was a witch! And what was more, she was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!   
  
"Ron!" said Harry, jabbing him in the ribs. "That's my old neighbor from the Dursleys! I didn't even know she was a witch!"  
  
Ron looked at Harry strangely. "Are you sure?" he asked skeptically.  
  
"Yeah!" Harry said, nodding vigorously.   
  
Ron shrugged and raised his eyebrows. "Coincidence," he said, as Dumbledore started to continue.  
  
"The Forbidden Forest is off-limits, as usual. Also, Mr. Filch has advised that anyone entering the castle this year with muddy feet is expected to scrub an entire floor, which floor to be assigned on penalization, and including classrooms." Dumbledore's beard twitched. "Now, I trust that we are all hungry. Let the feast begin!"  
  
And with that, the golden plates filled around them, and Harry immediately dished himself some steak and kidney pie. No one, however, seemed in their usual rush to eat. It was quite understandable, considering they had just been told that they were actually seven years in the past. Within ten minutes, however, the usual buzz of the Great Hall was back in full swing.  
  
After dinner had been cleared away, dessert eaten, and the plates wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. "And now to bed, after an excellent meal, if I do say so myself," he said.   
  
The students got up from their seats and Hermione seemed particularly eager to go.   
  
"You never told us where you went before dinner," said Ron, sensing something different.   
  
"I went to see Professor McGonagall," Hermione told him.  
  
"For what?" he asked, getting more and more curious.  
  
"I – I was sent a letter over the summer asking me to be a prefect," she said quickly. Harry hadn't noticed the silver badge before, and he realized that she must have pinned it to her robes just before dinner.  
  
"Congratu – " started Harry, but was cut off by Ron.  
  
"WHAT?" he said, scowling at her. "Why didn't you tell us?"  
  
"Well...er...because," she said, blushing.  
  
"Why didn't you sit with the prefects in the front of the train then?" he asked moodily.  
  
"Because I don't think it's right to flaunt those things," she told him hurriedly. "I have to go show the first years to the common room. The new password is 'Marzipan,'" she told them. And with that, she left.  
  
Ron glared after her. "Honestly, she can TELL us these things..."  
  
"Why does it matter to you if she waited?" asked Harry, making his way up the marble staircase. He was starting to get tired of Ron's pessimism toward Hermione.  
  
"I don't know...it just does," he said, frowning at the steps as he marched up them.  
  
They went the rest of the way to the common room with the other Gryffindors, and then Harry, Ron, Seamus, Dean, and Neville continued up to their dormitory. They entered, the sign on the door now saying "Fifth Years."   
  
Their minds were all too full to talk as they changed into their pajamas, so Harry only said, "Night, Ron," before he pulled the hangings on his four-poster shut.  
  
"G'night," responded Ron, through a yawn.  
  
Harry lay in bed, thinking about the Barrier. It was such a big change, and now they would never get to go to Hogsmeade again, except for when they got off the Hogwarts Express. But it was all for the better, he told himself. Everyone would be much safer, and it was still Hogwarts. And nothing could ever change that, he thought contentedly.   
  
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A/N: THANKS FOR READING...MAY I ADD THAT IT IS VERY SAD NOT TO GET ANY REVIEWS, AS I EXPERIENCED LAST TIME I POSTED A CHAPTER. PLEASE, DO ME A FAVOR (WHICH YOU ALREADY HAVE BY READING) AND REVIEW. THERE'S ALWAYS A POSSIBILITY THAT I WON'T POST NEXT TIME, IF I DON'T GET ANY FEEDBACK. 


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